


Two Words

by thewickling (Diviana)



Category: S.C.I.谜案集 | S.C.I. Mystery (TV)
Genre: Edging, M/M, Power Bottom, Shameless Smut, Smut, gege kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21773338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diviana/pseuds/thewickling
Summary: Two words and Zhan Yao is putty in Bai Yutong's hands.
Relationships: Bai Yutong/Zhan Yao
Comments: 8
Kudos: 164





	Two Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarahyyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/gifts).



“Yao-ge,” says Yutong, sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Zhan Yao blinks. His heart fills with suspicion. Slowly, he asks, “Why are you–”

Yutong slides to his knees. His breath brushes the front of Zhan Yao’s pants. Inclining his head, he asks, “Yao-ge?”

His mind spins. Those two words please his ears, caressing him with their sweetness. With those two words his reason softens. Yutong had to be up to something but...

“Yao-ge.”

Yutong angles his head the opposite direction. His hands move to the couch as if to steady himself.

Zhan Yao nods, although it is not a question. It is a compulsion that sends him stumbling onto the couch.

The confident mouse smirks. Without a word, he unbuckles Zhan Yao’s belt. Whatever words Zhan Yao had died in his throat, dragged down by his long, hard swallow. This isn’t real.

The couch beneath him is the same, firm one he always reads articles on. The table behind Yutong still contains scattered papers and coffee, but this isn’t real. It isn’t real even if Yutong’s warmth infuses Zhan Yao’s thighs. He has to be dreaming. 

Yet he clasps Zhan Yao’s zipper in his mouth. His smug aura had no effect on Zhan Yao. The sun and the moon could exchange places but he would have been blind to it. His stare was fixed on the tease of a rat Yutong’s mouth. 

He unzips in reply but it is less compliance and more domination. Tug. Tug. Tug. Each motion chipping away at Zhan Yao’s sanity until he reached the end. 

His fingers linger on Zhan Yao’s belt loops. Twisting them around his knuckles, he clearly telegraphed his actions. The demand hangs in the air. A second passses and it becomes a guest, another second comes and goes, and Zhan Yao wonders briefly kicking Yutong would provide some relief. On the five, he pulls but only lightly.

He can’t help buck his hips. Zhan Yao arches, clearing the couch, so his pants can leave in a second faster. 

Yutong chuckles. His fingers playfully pause, then he yanks the material down his legs. Pulling a condom his from his pocket, Yutong arranges his limbs neatly between Zhan Yao’s legs. That alone does something unspeakable to Zhan Yao.

Bai Yutong, on his knees, requesting permission to suck Zhan Yao’s cock. The same Bai Yutong he fought with through their schooling, who never seemed to bend the knee for anyone was—

The proud mouse taps the condom lightly on Zhan Yao’s cock. The question is punctuated by another, softer “Yao-ge?” 

_Did someone replace him with a fox?_ Zhan Yao swallows. His throat itches, incredibly dry. He licks his lips, searching for moisture.

Peering up through his eyelashes, he smiles. He leans, shifting his weight onto Zhan Yao’s thigh. He flicks his wrist. A condom is showcased between his fingers as…

 _Is he acting coy,_ Zhan Yao thinks. No, that what he should focus on. He blinks, or tried to. His eyes refuse to leave the curve of Yutong’s neck as he presses his cheek into Zhan Yao’s leg. How neatly he fits between and below Zhan Yao strokes something primal in him up into a frenzy.

“Yao-ge?” Tilting his head to the side, his brows raise. He asks, but the way his mouth turns up at the corners is teasing. Dragging the edge of the condom across Zhan Yao’s length, he repeats sofly, “Yao-ge?”

He nods, grunting as Yutong draws the dark fabric in his lips. Even if Yutong was a fox spirit, he doesn’t mind having his soul taken. His hips buck and twist. He can’t help buck towards the treasure in front of him. 

Pressing down Zhan Yao’s hip, Yutong says, “Yao-ge”.

It sounds like an admonishment. Curling his toes, Zhan Yao stills. All his excess energy shakes his legs. 

Yutong laughs. 

Tearing open the condom, he unrolls it over Zhan Yao. His thumb ghosts Zhan Yao’s tip. His legs rock as if he’s trying to run a marathon. He reminds himself: _Keep still._

His other hand rolls Zhan Yao’s other sensitive parts between his knuckles. Leaning harder on Zhan Yao’s thigh, he raises his brow lazily. His eyes bright with mirth as Zhan Yao glares at him.

A light kiss dispels Zhan Yao’s frustration. Six land across his length, coaxingly. A hint of teeth scratched an itch he didn’t know he had. Sparks of primal need blinded him.

 _God,_ he thinks throwing in more to cover the bases he doesn’t believe in, _Eros please don’t let this end until the climax._

 _Until we both climax,_ he corrects. 

An incisor traces a vein on his cock. The sensations balance on the tip of a blade. A hint of danger smoothed over but a brush of tongue. A note of adrenaline mixed with his desire. 

“Hurry.” His mouth moves faster than his brain. 

He stops in his tracks. His breathe strokes the heat of Zhan Yao’s cock. The coolness mocks him. 

“Yao-ge...” 

That sounds to Zhan Yao more like “continue or”. The lube his hand forms the alternative choice. He glides the bottle over Zhan Yao’s head, an offering.

Continue or change, his mental haze made thinking difficult. Biting his cheek, he points. His gut and thousands of experiences with his smug mouse tell if he doesn’t change gears Yutong will get the last laugh. 

The chill of lube takes the edge of his haze. He wonders what Yutong’s scheme is before the air is knocked from his lungs. A nail digs into his head, smoothed over by a kiss. 

The haze retakes ground.

Yutong alternates between nail and lips; teeth and tongue; and pressure and gentleness playing Zhan Yao like a conductor. Each motion nudging, guiding, and coaxing him to a conclusion. Before the crescendo, he stops. 

“Yutong,” he curses.

He clears the ground, palm pressing firmly into Zhan Yao’s shoulder. He hovers over Zhan Yao’s lap. At the curse, he pauses and pulls partly way. 

“Yao-ge.”

The phrase is full of smugness with an air of “this is your choice, don’t regret it.”

His lust-laddled brain catches up and he hisses, “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

Yutong laughs. Chuckles that vibrate between them. He undoes his pants in agreement. 

His hands find their way to Yutong’s hips. The itch to pull and yank and thrust overwhelm him. That he hasn’t already gone mad from Yutong’s game. 

“Gege,” he warns. 

The sweetness of the words are enough to freeze him in place. But the beauty of the perfectly capable Bai Yutong knuckles deep within himself dries Zhan Yao’s throat. The need to do something reflexively rears its head. Passivity was never a part of their dynamic.

He bites. Salt invades his taste buds. His nose brushes the hollow of Yutong’s collar. The familiar scent of musk encourages him. 

“Yao-ge.” 

Drawing back, Zhan Yao forgets what air is. 

Yutong lowers himself centimeter by centimeter onto him. The slight furrow of his brow tempts Zhan Yao’s fingers. He smooths it away and snakes down to relieve Yutong of his shirt. 

Air finally enters him as Yutong fully seats himself. He forms such a pretty picture. If he were an artwork, it would be a Baroque sculpture. All the careful, loving craft of a Renaissance work with none of the shame. 

Definitely no shame as he tears off Zhan Yao’s vest, shirt, and undershirt with a tsk of impatience. The contrast between Yutong’s sculpted arms and Zhan Yao’s thinner ones… He promises himself to go to the gym.

All thoughts are lost when Yutong moves. Rocking his hips and pushing Zhan Yao down, he whispers into his ear, “Gege.”

The word full of coyness. He makes demands with his hands, guiding Zhan Yao’s down towards his half masted self. He pulls up his hips when Zhan Yao complies. 

Yutong could have asked him to shoot down the moon and he would have tried. He would cross the river of stars, wronging every being in heaven and on earth, as long as Yutong keeps moving. 

“Yutong,” he warns. 

He slows. “Gege.” 

His message his clear, so Zhan Yao inhales deeply. 

When they climax, Zhan Yao sees starlight and supernovas. All the tension melts out of his bones. He’s putty under Yutong’s steady weight. 

Rolling off, he tugs Zhan Yao’s ear close. In a husky, spine-tickling whisper, he says, “You lose.”

“What?” he mumbles. 

“I got you do everything I wanted with only two words,” he says. The reminder is decorated with satisfaction and victory. “I win. You have to tell our parents about Las Vegas.”

He gets up and heads to the bathroom, not allowing any argument.

Zhan Yao’s spine chills for a different reason now. Recalling Las Vegas, the marriage certificate buried in his bedroom dresser seems to mock him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully y'all enjoy this silly fic I finally got around to finishing.


End file.
